


Natural Phenomenon

by puckity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Admiration, Dormitory Sex, F/F, First Time, Jealousy, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-30
Updated: 2005-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny is studying ghosts over holiday break, and finds something infinitely more appealing to fill her time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Phenomenon

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005 for and dedicated to Melyanna. The first femslash fic I ever wrote.
> 
> Takes place during holiday in HBP, spoilers follow thusly.
> 
> Self-beta'd.
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/).

On the other side of the thin wall, a series of crashes erupted.

“Honestly!” Hermione was up and banging against the wooden boards before Ginny could even consider stopping her. “I HAVEN’T THE SLIGHTEST IDEA HOW ANYONE CAN GET A DECENT NIGHT’S SLEEP IN THIS HOUSE!”

Roaring laughter echoed from the other room, and Hermione looked very nearly homicidal. Caught between assaulting the wall again and letting the twins get away with mocking her, Hermione clearly didn’t know how best to respond. Ginny offered an understanding smile from her bed.

“They always get rowdy near the holidays. They do seem to have calmed down elsewhere, but something about the close proximity to Mum and Dad makes them go a bit mental.” Ginny shook her head in half-hearted remorse and closed the ragged copy of _Sprites, Spectres, and the Spirit World: A Guide for Witches and Wizards on Supernatural Manifestations_ that Snape had made them purchase from Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was an interesting read—much more so than History of Magic or Arithmancy—but the chapters were long and sometimes difficult to fully grasp. Her experience with ghosts went as far as Peeves and Nearly Headless Nick, though according to the book there was a large concentration of supernatural energy in the world that could be extremely powerful if harnessed correctly. Because of Quidditch practice Ginny had gotten behind on her readings, and was only now finishing the chapter on apparitions and omens that had been assigned three weeks ago. She wasn’t finding it particularly hard to reconcile what this book said with her Divination courses; Trelawney had never inspired much intellectual confidence in her.

Hermione made her way back to her bed in a huff, and was practically seething when Ginny looked over. As the awkward tension rose in the room, impulsiveness took over and Ginny blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“Did you see what Lavender gave Ron for Christmas? God, it was _hideous_. This atrocious gold necklace-thing, I suppose that was what it was. But it said ‘Won-Won’! Can you imagine his face when he opened it? I’m surprised he even bothers going downstairs, what with Fred and George lurking about. I mean, if they saw it Ron would be as good as dead. Because they would never, _ever_ let him live it down.” The color in Hermione’s cheeks had drained. Ginny realized that Hermione probably did **not** want to hear about the present Ron girlfriend’s gave him, but at least she wasn’t staring at the wall as though she could burn a hole through it with her eyes anymore.

“I’m sure Ron loved it.” Hermione’s voice was placid and icy; Ginny flinched a little to hear it. “I mean, he’s dating a cheap girl, he ought to be able to wear cheap jewelry as well.” It took all of two seconds for Ginny to burst out laughing. Hermione lasted longer, eventually succumbing to a fit of giggles after watching Ginny flail on her bed for a while.

“Oi! Keep it down in there! Some of us are trying to get a _decent night’s sleep_!” One of the twins’ voices sliced through the wall and Hermione looked ready to storm their room and hex them inside out, but Ginny only laughed harder and that seemed to soften Hermione’s murderous resolve. Finally they quieted, Ginny’s gasps emptying and filling the room in turn. Hermione got off her neatly made bedspread and sat down with a thud on Ginny’s.

“What class is this for?” Hermione leafed through Snape’s assigned book and glanced at Ginny quizzically. “I don’t remember having to read this. Are you covering the paranormal phenomena that nearly destroyed all the defense forces during the Vampire Invasions of 1437? Because there is an excellent book—Vladimir Kobelnzyk’s _Lost Causes: Phantoms and Wizard Warfare_ , I think—that would be truly beneficial if you want a clear account of what happened. I mean, Kobelnzyk’s family took part in the invasion, so he has the closest to first-hand knowledge that you are going to find, and—” Ginny grabbed Hermione’s arm in hopes of distracting her long enough to get a word in.

“It’s for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape is covering supernatural phenomenon as part of what we may encounter in the wizarding world. Or at least that is what he claims.” Hermione looked as though she was fighting the urge to convince Ginny to read that book about the Vampire Invasions. “Either way, I can’t make out half the stuff in here. It’s not that I don’t understand it; I just don’t know what it would be like, realistically. The apparitions in this book don’t seem to be anything like Nearly Headless Nick, though I will admit that Peeves fits the poltergeist description perfectly. It all seems odd to me, like a slightly more valid version of what Trelawney tried to teach us.”

Hermione snorted in an undignified sort of way. “Trelawney is one sherry bottle short of a cask.”

Ginny chuckled. “Well, that’s true enough. Still, things like doppelgangers and shadowmen—they seem like jokes to me.” Hermione didn’t say anything, and Ginny thought up a question to ask her. “Hermione, what do muggles think of this stuff? Do they believe in it, or is it rubbish to them too?”

Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and seemed to consider her answer. “Some of them believe in it. Of course, muggles see things differently than wizards; they understand things differently. These things are more superstitions to them than anything. But, I don’t know…” She looked out the window where the snow was beginning to collect on the sill. 

“Ever since that night in the Department of Mysteries, I’ve wondered about some things. My parents never told me ghost stories because they didn’t want me growing up with irrational ideas. Ghosts like Nick and the Bloody Baron and Peeves, they—well, they just are part of Hogwarts. I can see them and interact with them and so I accept them. But there was something about that veil, something I heard or felt. I’m not sure. There was something there, and the more I think about it the more I wonder if there is a whole world there. It’s one thing to document a bizarre streak of phantom activity that plagued one place for one time. But it’s something else to think that maybe things like that aren’t mistakes, maybe they are just the times we can see everything.” 

Ginny watched Hermione. It was not at all like her to wonder about things that couldn’t be proven. Hermione never trusted anything that she couldn’t convince herself beyond a doubt was real. 

“It’s a bit frightening, isn’t it?” Hermione turned away from the window and smiled shyly at Ginny. “Thinking that there are some things even wizards can’t explain or really understand. Now I know what Harry must feel like knowing he can’t alter death.” Ginny blushed at the mention of Harry, and Hermione studied her for a moment.

“Well, this isn’t anything we should be discussing on Christmas night. So, how’s Dean?” Ginny rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.

“Dean is Dean, the same as he ever was. Probably didn’t even get me a present, that git.” At Hermione’s look of exaggerated shock, Ginny elaborated. “He said he didn’t have time to get me a present before holidays, so he swore he’d have one when we got back to school. Not that I believe him, mind you.”

“No, naturally.”

“And Ron still gets all dodgy when he’s around. I can’t believe he expected me to never get a boyfriend.” 

“Ron can be rather stupid, most of the time.” Hermione dropped back onto the bed, lying flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. Ginny followed suit, and made a noise of solidarity.

“ _Boys_ can be rather stupid, most of the time.” Ginny felt as though she should have said that a long time ago, and was unexpectedly struck with the fierce drive to do something reckless. Fred and George were next door two steps away from setting the entire house on fire; Harry and Ron were upstairs binging on peppermint snaps and butterscotch brittle, most likely having some sort of pillow duel; and here she and Hermione were, rotten luck being the only two sane girls in a house of barking mad boys. They couldn’t even find sympathy with Mrs. Weasley, who these days was too busy being cornered by Fleur. It all seemed terribly unjust.

It took Ginny all of two seconds to roll over onto Hermione and start tickling her. Years of tickle fights between Ginny and her brothers—before she got too old for it to be appropriate—had taught her all the best techniques. Plus, Hermione was excessively ticklish and Ginny had no shame when it came to such things. Pinned beneath Ginny’s agile frame, Hermione had little choice but to thrash underneath her and wait for her to stop. Ginny finally pulled back, and found herself staring down at a flushed, tousled form that hardly resembled the prim prefect she’d always known and loved.

Though admittedly it wasn’t the first thought that had crossed her mind, if Ginny was looking for something reckless, when she kissed Hermione she found it. She knew Hermione had snogged Viktor Krum once or twice, so there wasn’t any frigid reaction to Ginny’s lips on hers. There were a few muffled sounds, as though Hermione was attempting to orient herself physically and mentally, but Ginny wasn’t particularly interested in being tender at the moment. First of all, Hermione didn’t need her coddling. Secondly, Ginny needed Hermione to relieve a pressure she hadn’t even known was there until she had felt—really _felt_ —Hermione’s hands on her thighs and noticed how suddenly _there_ Hermione’s breasts were as they rose and fell in time with her strained breathing.

Ginny forced her way into Hermione’s mouth, the way Michael used to do it with her. Her hands glided against the warm skin of Hermione’s stomach, soft like Dean’s was hard. The body beneath her was smooth—warm and gentle—more like home than her brothers’ hugs ever were. When she broke the kiss and buried her face in Hermione’s bushy curls she smelled cinnamon and pine trees, reminders of her mother’s tarts and forest flight races with the twins. Hermione’s mouth brushed over and over her cheek, her hands cupping Ginny’s breasts as though they should be worshipped rather than pawed clumsily. Ginny peeled off her over-sized nightshirt and actually started at how fast Hermione’s lips moved from her face to her hardened nipple.

Ginny bit her lip to avoid making any suspicious noises. The last thing she needed was one of the twins barging in on this. Still, Hermione began to suck harder and Ginny didn’t know if she was doing it right or not; neither Michael nor Dean ever did more than fondle. Doing it right must have been a relative term, because whether it was correct or not Ginny couldn’t stop herself from panting a little. She wriggled her hand down the front of her knickers and began doing what she used to do late at night, thinking about Harry mostly. He still drifted about in her mind—green eyes startling with want—but Hermione was there too, eyes shut in concentration and lips reddened with exertion. Ginny focused on that face and all the little sounds coming from the girl beneath her, and then her hair was falling into her eyes as she felt that tingling, spasming sensation that she’d heard a vulgar group of Slytherin girls refer to as coming in her first year. It wasn’t her first time, but it was the best yet, far and away.

Ginny finally unclenched her eyes and it suddenly struck her that there wasn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough time for everything she wanted, everything she needed. Not just now, but in life on whole. There wasn’t enough time for her or Hermione. There would never be enough time, so Ginny decided that fast would have to do. Hermione was timidly stroking over her knickers, but Ginny shoved past the hand and found her way between Hermione’s legs. She was surprised by how wet it was; had she been the same way? She couldn’t recall. She felt bristly patches of hair and threaded her fingers in them, searching for all the places that would make Hermione scream, if Ginny had the time. She worked two fingers inside Hermione, kissing the skin beside her ear and savoring every moan and disjointed sentence that passed those still-red lips.

Hermione arched off the bed when she came, which made Ginny slightly jealous. But she looked so dazed afterwards that Ginny forgave her, and settled herself against Hermione’s shivering chest. Feeling her weight pressing against Hermione’s downy body, her fingers sticky from her recklessness, Ginny wondered why she had never felt so good with Michael or Dean—wondered if Harry could make her feel this way or not. It had been short and stifled and so wonderfully perfect; Ginny ruefully doubted that it could be recreated. 

Hermione’s hands ran soothingly through her hair as if she could tell what the other girl was thinking. Ginny drifted to sleep hearing Hermione’s words in her mind. _There are some things even wizards can’t explain or really understand._ That was a frightening thought indeed.


End file.
